


a posse ad esse

by femslashsinner



Series: self-indulgent smutty ficlets [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (with each other), Bondage, Chair Bondage, Cunnilingus, F/F, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Oral Sex, Rope Bondage, Vaginal Fingering, i think that about covers it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 15:31:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6991321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femslashsinner/pseuds/femslashsinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy's attempt to teach Angie some self-defense skills doesn't quite go as planned (not that either of them mind).</p>
            </blockquote>





	a posse ad esse

It started when Peggy decided that Angie was in need of some proper training, now that she knew Peggy’s actual job and all. As much as Peggy explained – and explained and explained and explained – that being even marginally involved in her life is a serious liability as far as a safety is concerned, Angie simply refused to grasp the need for any self-defense skills beyond those she might learn in the course of her acting career, or simply from living as a pretty dame in a crowded city with more than a few creeps.  


“Seriously, Pegs?” Angie had whined. “I think I can handle myself just fine. Besides, I have you to protect me. They haven’t got me yet, have they?” she continued with a wink and a not-so-subtle slap on Peggy’s biceps.  


After her blushing finally subsided, Peggy managed to state – albeit in a very clipped manner – just how important this is to her; she’s seen too many good people go too early just because they had gotten involved in her life, and while these skills may not have entirely stopped the tragedies, they would have given those people a bit more of a fighting chance in the wake of Peggy’s mistakes (she neglected to mention that those mistakes were quite akin to what she was doing right now – namely, letting herself get too attached). But now that Peggy and Angie were living in the same house, Angie’s risk of getting in harm’s way was too large to ignore, and it would help them both for Angie to learn at least the basics of self-defense.  


And so Angie finally agreed to let Peggy teach her a few things – things that might just help her if the worst happened, God forbid. Peggy had wanted to start with a few boxing techniques, as well as some less conventional street fight-style moves that had gotten Peggy out of more than a few bad spots. Angie had quickly vetoed that suggestion - “Got an audition coming up, and I don’t think they’ll cast me if I’m sporting a shiner”– and, several minutes of haggling later, both women had agreed that Angie would begin her training by learning strategies to get out of bonds, should she ever be kidnapped (again, Peggy prayed that such a thing would never happen, but she wasn’t naïve).  


Which is why Angie is currently sitting in a wooden chair in the center of one of the many spacious rooms in Howard’s mansion, while Peggy stands behind her, securing her writs together with some old rope she found in the garage. When that’s done, Peggy quickly surveys her work, checking the firmness of the ropes as well as the tightness of the knots. At second glance – maybe she was trying too hard to avoid hurting Angie – the bond seems just a bit too loose, so Peggy quickly undoes and then re-ties the knot, making sure it’s more secure. This action is met by a startled yelp from Angie, who unsuccessfully tries to move her connected wrists out of Peggy’s reach.  


“God, could you make me any more comfortable, English?”  


“I apologize, but I assure you that anyone willing to do this to you would certainly not care in the slightest about your comfort. Besides, if you follow my instructions, you’ll be out of this before you know it,” Peggy says as she stands, moving to face Angie and trying to ignore that strange feeling that blossoms in her center at the sight of Angie already so vulnerable and completely at her mercy. For an instant she thinks she sees a look on Angie’s face that mirrors the way she feels, but it’s overtaken by a raging blush as Peggy kneels in front of Angie and says, with very little in the way of introduction, “Spread your legs.”  


Peggy can feel her own face start to heat up at Angie’s reaction – the other girl’s face has turned a frankly startling shade of red, and her mouth has started working as if she’s trying to come up with an objection, but no sound is coming out. Before she’s able to say anything, Peggy interjects.  


“I just need to tie your calves to the chair legs, and I can’t do that if they’re together.” She pauses before reaching for the rope that she had piled next to the chair. “But if you really aren’t comfortable with doing this, we can stop.” Peggy looks up into Angie’s eyes as she says this – a bit of an awkward angle, but hopefully she’s still able to get the message across. Thankfully, Angie nods, hesitantly at first and then more confidently.  


“It’s important to you. I wanna do it,” Angie says, and then, as if to reassure Peggy even more, “And it’s not like I’m doing it just cause you want me to. When I finally land a big role on Broadway – or one of the pictures - who knows what kind of weirdos might take a liking to me? It’s not like I’ll always have you there to protect me.”  


“Thank you, Angie,” Peggy replies, hoping that Angie can hear the sincerity in her voice – it may seem ridiculous, but this training is genuinely important to her. “Trust me, I’ll be completely proper,” she adds.  


Her embarrassment seemingly at least somewhat faded, Angie does what Peggy had asked, spreading her legs so that each one lines up with a leg of the chair. Rope in hand, Peggy sets to work, first with the right and then the left, and tries to ignore the fact that her position and the length of Angie’s skirt give her the perfect opportunity to be able to look between Angie’s legs. She also tries to ignore the fact that she wants to, because the chance Angie is a girl like her is slim to none, and she doesn’t want to risk a real friendship over these fleeting – not to mention immoral – desires. At least she hopes they’re fleeting.  


By the time Peggy finishes her work on the second knot, she is acutely conscious that it has been several minutes since either of them have spoken; the only sounds during that time have been the rustling of the ropes in her hands and their breathing. She is also acutely conscious that Angie’s breathing has changed – what started out as breaths of regular length and depth have slowly but surely become more shallow and ragged. Peggy is almost afraid to look back up at Angie, but is about to do so – and suggest that they move on to the actual ‘escaping bonds’ part of their lesson – when Angie speaks.  


“Maybe I don’t want you to be,” she says, her voice starting out nearly timid but increasing in volume as Angie becomes more sure of herself. Since it’s been a few minutes since Peggy made her promise, she apparently feels the need to clarify herself – “Proper, I mean,” - but Peggy has already caught her meaning and her mind is running with the possibilities.  


But before she does anything, she again feels the need to look at Angie in the eye, make sure that she really wants this. When she does so, Angie’s cheeks are flushed, not with shame but with the characteristic pinkish-red of desire. Or maybe she was never ashamed at all. Either way, the look in her eyes is unmistakable.  


Still, Peggy asks, even as her entire body itches to touch Angie, to explore the new realm it’s seemingly been given access to, because maybe her own feelings are clouding the way she interprets Angie’s expression. “Are you sure you want this?”  


“I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.”  


Melodramatic flair aside, that’s all Peggy needs to hear. Within seconds, she’s pulling Angie’s skirt down to expose a pair of plain white panties, Angie doing her best to help by shuffling in her seat. Peggy’s hurried breathing now matches Angie’s, both of them nearly panting without even having touched one another. Once the skirt is pulled down, Peggy contemplates removing the panties as well, but decides to leave them be for now.  


She can see clearly now just how wet Angie is, smell the sweet scent of her arousal. At once gentle and hurried, she leans forwards and moves her tongue lightly over the soaked patch in Angie’s panties. In response, Angie moans and tries to move in her seat, to push her hips forward and closer to Peggy, but can do very little because of the restraints.  


She teases Angie that way a few more times – a couple more light swipes over the thin fabric of her underwear, each one causing a more passionate response than the last – before she pulls that layer down as well. With the ropes keeping her legs spread far apart, the sight of Angie – now entirely naked from the waist down – is nothing short of pornographic, her cunt beautiful and shining with the liquid proof of her arousal and so fucking _close_. Peggy instantly dives back in, moving up to swirl her tongue around Angie’s clit before moving back down and licking a few times over her opening.  


Peggy had at times wondered what kind of fuck Angie would be – loud or quiet or something in the middle – but those were thoughts she had only entertained in the dark of night, when work had exhausted her to the point that she could no longer even judge herself and, more often than not, when an alcohol-induced haze allowed her imagination to flow more freely. Those brief dips into fantasy had always ended with Peggy feeling dirty, both due to the subject of her desires and because she believed that Angie would certainly never feel the same way. Now, miracle of miracles, it's really happening, and Peggy is in the middle of discovering that Angie is amazingly, blessedly loud. Everything she does makes Angie practically writhe in pleasure, draws out grunts and sighs and moans that only add to the wetness Peggy can feel between her own legs.  


But for a moment Angie is almost painfully still above her as Peggy moves her tongue back and forth, her body strained and tense and her breathing now even more erratic. Then, at long last, Peggy plunges her tongue inside Angie’s cunt. Angie lets out her loudest cry let, trying once more to push her hips closer to Peggy’s face, to let herself get fucked harder and deeper. Peggy feels Angie’s torso twist, and knows that if the other woman were able to move her arms, she would have used her hands to hold Peggy’s head down so that Peggy would be powerless to do anything but keep fucking Angie with her tongue. The image sends a fresh wave of arousal through Peggy, who has to stifle a shout of her own. Peggy keeps swirling her tongue inside, letting herself enjoy the taste of Angie, and slips one of her own hands below her skirt, aching for her own release. She rubs her own clit without any real technique, just looking desperately for any kind of friction with her tongue still inside Angie.  


They continue that way for a few moments longer before Peggy hears Angie speak above her. The words are at first lost in the rest of Angie’s noises, but all of a sudden, Peggy can hear them. “God – Peggy, English – You’re good, you’re so fucking _good_ \- I need – I need _more_.”  


At last Peggy withdraws her tongue, and Angie whimpers at the sudden emptiness, at the lack of sensation. “Don’t worry dear, I’m going to take good care of you,” she says; she’s normally not much of a talker during sex, but maybe Angie is rubbing off on her. Either way, she’s too caught up in the way she feels – plus the way she yearns to make Angie feel – to care much about what comes out of her mouth.  


Barely waiting an instant, Peggy takes the hand that she’s not using on herself and moves it up towards the center of Angie’s lap. Again she takes a few moments to rub along the outside of Angie’s entrance, feeling the way that her whole body reacts to the touch, before inserting a finger into Angie. She’s so slick that it slides right in, and Angie lets out another moan as Peggy flicks the end of her finger back and forth inside her, searching for the most sensitive spots. Not long after that, she adds a second finger, continuing to rub herself all the while.  


They’re both close, she can feel it, and she knows just what Angie needs to make it there. Peggy reaches up with her thumb to make circles around Angie’s clit while continuing to finger her, and it takes only a few more seconds of the combined motions before she can feel Angie’s walls tense around her as she begins to orgasm. Angie throws her head back and lets the sensation travel through her, Peggy still giving a few weak thrusts with her fingers and slowly massaging Angie’s clit. The sight and sound of Angie’s orgasm is enough to tip the final scale for Peggy, who comes mere seconds after the other woman, just one of her own hands and the beautiful sight before her more than enough to bring her to an intense orgasm.  


When it’s all over and their breathing is beginning to return to normal, Peggy slips her hand back out of Angie, wiping the remaining wetness on her own skirt. While neither of them have done much in the way of moving – Angie as a result of the ropes tied around her hands and legs – Peggy feels strangely exhausted, and she has the sense that Angie feels the same. She lays her head down on one of Angie’s legs, slumping against the chair and trying to catch her breath. Angie is the one who finally breaks the silence a few moments later.  


“Didn’t know you were so kinky, English.”  


“Didn’t know you were into girls, Angie,” Peggy retorts, moving her head just enough to look up in the direction of Angie’s face.  


“Maybe it took a girl like you to make me realize just how ‘into girls’ I was,” Angie replies, and then a heartbeat later, “Anyway, are you gonna teach me how to get out of these things or what? Maybe a director’s not gonna cast me with a black eye, but rope marks like these are gonna be a helluva lot harder to explain.”  


“Oh,” Peggy starts, “Oh. Right.” She practically jumps out of her position, again feeling blood rush into her face. “I promise our lessons in the future will be a little more… productive.”  


“Hey, I didn’t mind being a little unproductive,” Angie says with a smirk. “And I kinda doubt you minded either.”  


Peggy can’t help but smile at that. “Self-defense lessons, can be awfully boring, can’t they?” she responds, ideas already blossoming in her mind about how she can make their future sessions a bit more… well, entertaining.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this! This is my first attempt at writing smut (or any Cartinelli at all) so please forgive me for any terrible mistakes or poor characterization attempts I may have made. If you did enjoy this, feel free to leave comments, kudos, or subscribe for similar filth that I’ll publish at some indefinite time in the future!  
> The title comes from a Latin phrase meaning "from possibility to actuality" or "from being possible to being actual", which I thought was pretty relevant.


End file.
